


you'll need those fingers for crossing

by moodorbs



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Post-fourth trial, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodorbs/pseuds/moodorbs
Summary: This fic is NOT pro-ana or pro-bulimia or pro-ED in any way, shape, or form. It is a vent fic based off of the author's own experiences. If you are currently struggling with an eating disorder, I wish you the best on your journey. I am writing this from a place of my own struggle.Hina has a hard time. Post fourth trial.
Relationships: Past sakuraoi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	you'll need those fingers for crossing

The back of your throat stings and your teeth hurt, sharp jabbing pains down to your gum, and the back of them is tacky and feels rough when you press your tongue against them.

Your head hurts, too, and your stomach. Really, it's everything that hurts, but your heart the most.

You shouldn't have done this again, you promised her you wouldn't, and you're loathe to tell her even though she kisses your tears away and reminds you recovery isn't linear, never will be, but then you remember that she's gone now, and nothing can change that. The feelings swirl inside of you, the grief and the guilt and the knowing you should have done something, you needed to, but you can't go back and then your fingers are touching your tonsils and you're retching again, watching the last of your dinner splash down into the toilet bowl. 

The guilt is even worse, and the shuddering, and now you have to stay there because you feel weak, and it stings your nose and your throat and you think you might cry until you realize you _are_ crying, and loudly, and you have been for a while now.

There's a knock at the door and a polite question you can't quite make out and you know it's Makoto, come to make sure you're all right, because you know you're nowhere near quiet when you're bawling.

You stand up on shaky legs, flush the toilet, tell him to hold on a second, and redo your ponytail in the mirror, gulping down a little water from the sink on your way to the door. Smiling, you open it, and tell him you'd just not been feeling too well, and you promise you'll be fine by morning.

As you change into your sleeping tank top and strip off your clothes, you go over how you both know you're lying.


End file.
